Beadle. I’ve a warrant for you, my boy.
Punch. (Striking him.) And that’s a warrant for you, my boy. (The Beadle’s a determined man, ye know, and resolved to go to the ends of justice as far as possible in his power by special authority, so a quarrel enshoos between them.)
Beadle. You are a blackguard.
Punch. So are you.
(The Beadle hits Punch on the nose, and takes the law in his own hands. Punch takes it up momentary; strikes the Beadle, and a fight enshoos. The Beadle, faint and exhausted, gets up once more; then he strikes Punch over the nose, which is returned pro and con.)
Beadle. That’s a good ’un.
Punch. That’s a better.
Beadle. That’s a topper. (He hits him jolly hard.)
Punch. (With his cudgel.) That’s a wopper. (He knocks him out of his senses, and the Beadle exaunts.)
Enter Merry Clown.